2013 Baystate Marathon - Lowell, MA
Official: 26.2 miles, 3:29:47, 8:01 min/mi. 329th overall, 96/211 in M3039
Garmin: 26.53 miles, 3:29:57, 7:55 min/mi, 175 avg HR, 191 max HR
54, cool, sunny, windy. Blue Bikilas. My leg felt better when I woke up, but not healed. I used the foam roller and warmed up on an exercise bike a bit and tried not to aggravate it. I got to the start line early and tried to stay warm pacing around. There seemed to be no point in trying to do a warmup run (not sure I would for a marathon anyway). I did a quick little few steps of jogging and right away I felt my calf seize up. At this point I had no idea what to do or think or expect. I figured I either would DNF, or it would suddenly loosen or at least dull after maybe 10 miles and I'd tough out a BQ, or anything in between. I wasn't in a good mood, though, and kinda didn't even want to be there. It's been almost six years since I've run a marathon and occasionally during training the distance struck me as a lot, as it used to as a novice, and now I found it particularly daunting.
I also got stuck on the outside of the chute and had to crawl through a barrier to get inside. Unlike the last few races I've done, they seemed determined to start at 8am sharp. I did meet the volunteer leading the 3:05 group and said hello, and told him I hoped I didn't seem him until the finishing area. We started and I did end up behind the pace group, but the distance between us was steady so I didn't let it bother me too much. The crowd up front was a lot thicker than I was expecting. A BQ in last year's race would have put me around 75th overall, but it felt like a couple of hundred people were around me, even after a couple of miles, and the 3:05 group was about 20 guys at least. My calf was hurting but not terrible, but everything else felt okay for the first mile, so I felt a little hopeful. I could see that my HR was way too high though, maybe not untenably high, but worrisome. Sometimes the monitor gives bad readings early on (you have to wet it, and sometimes when I put it on early before a race, it dries out until I get sweaty). Then after about a mile or so, suddenly my stomach clenched up and started hurting. I think it was my abs, in fact, not my actual stomach, and not a stitch. I had done one last ab workout on Friday after skipping them for a while, so I guess that was it? I didn't think I had gone that hard. Anyway, that really worried me, but it faded just before we got to Mile 4. I was planning on GUs every four miles, and we were coming up on some hills, and you know I love passing people on hills, so I took my shot and passed the whole pace group right before the big hill, and then made the GU my treat for running up it.
I was starting to feel more confident. My Garmin distance was more or less matching the mile markers, and I was on pace with the cushion I wanted. But it seemed like the pace group was going too fast, and I had trouble staying in front of them. We made it to the Tyngsborough bridge and I was still ahead of them, and I was thrilled to see that the renovation that happened in the interim had gotten rid of the awful cage-like pedestrian crossing, and replaced it with an actual sidewalk. That was horrible and scary when I ran in 2007 and I couldn't confirm whether it had been renovated. Then again, it turned out not to matter, because this year they closed the northbound side of the bridge to traffic anyway, so we were out in the road.
On the north side of the river, though, the pace group started to catch me, and then before I knew it, had engulfed me. And it soon became a nightmare.
I'm not exactly a people person. I'm an introvert, for one thing. I'm not a shut-in or anything and I can have a perfectly good time in a crowded bar (or a World Series victory parade!). But I'm definitely a lone wolf when it comes to running, and I can count the number of times I've run with another person on one hand. I've certainly never run in a tight group, like I'd see them do in cross country practice.
So I wasn't used to it, even under good conditions, and these were not good conditions. It was the 3:05 group so it was entirely men, and men are gross. These men, I noticed early on before I passed them the first time, were particularly gross. I've never seen so much spitting and so many snot rockets in a race before, and I've run races in the snow.
I felt very hemmed in, and unable to run the way I run. At one point, I almost bought it on a fallen tree branch that I couldn't see coming. And in general, I tend to speed up on hills and slow going downhill, which is backwards from what most people do (it's mostly a consequence the VFFs and forefoot striking). I was also stuck over on the right side, and I had told my parents to look for me on the left side after the Rourke bridge, right around the halfway point, so they could hand me a bottle of chia fresca I'd made.
And finally, the other guys were chatting with the pacer, and they asked how exactly he was pacing himself, and he said that he was aiming for 3:04. And then suddenly he said, hey let's go for 3:03, and everyone seemed fine with that. That was the last straw. If I'd been healthy, I had been thinking I could go closer to 3:00 than 3:05, but there was no way I could do even 3:03 on this leg. I had to get out of this situation.
So with all that in mind, I started trying to make my way to the left, but the only way to do that was to let the scrum pass me. Finally they did, after I lost a lot of side-to-side distance, and now my watch and the mile markers were parting ways.
And now I was running just a little slower than BQ pace, by a few seconds only, but it seemed a little early for that, since now the westerly wind was at my back, and the north side of the river is mostly a gentle downhill slope. Finally we got to the Rourke bridge, where we'd start the second loop, and it turned out to be this bridge that I should have been worried about, because it just killed me. Instead of my left calf loosening or dulling like I'd hoped, my right calf now joined it, probably tired of compensating for the other. I got to the end, and the crowd was probably ten times the size that I remembered from 2007 (which is why I told my parents to met me here, as they'd stood her last time, and were easy to spot). I did see my father, and he saw me, so I kept to the left as the road turned right, leaving the pace group well in front of me, when some asshole started running along the crowd towards me, perfectly timed to pass my father just as he was trying to hand off the bottle to me. I think I screamed at the guy, and somehow did grab the bottle without breaking stride. But it wasn't what I needed just then.
I saw the rest of my family in a blur, and started sucking citrus and honey and chia seeds, hoping they'd help. They did, but not enough. I made it to 13.1 and my legs were screaming and my HR was bumping 190. And those hills were coming up again.
I thought about stopping, quite a lot. There didn't seem to be much point, after all, especially after the 3:10 group passed me, so I wouldn't even be able to beat my original BQ goal (3:10:59). Then again, I didn't have a cell phone on me, though I did at least think to write my mom's and my sister's numbers inside my bib (a trick I picked up at the Phoenix marathon, and I'm shocked all races don't do that). Given the road closures, there was no way they'd be able to get me once I crossed the river again, even if I did find someone with a phone. And I had no idea what the official Aid situation was. I didn't remember seeing Aid stations at the water stops, but I hadn't been looking for them. I've never needed one before.
I slogged on until about Mile 14, when I saw Underhandtofirst standing all by himself, waiting to cheer me on. As soon as I saw him I started shaking my head, and yelled out "it's not happening, Joe. Sorry." I have no idea why I felt apologetic at that point, and I doubt Joe did either, but it seemed to be the thing to say. I shook his hand as I went by and probably almost tore it off, or at least got his hand all snotty. Sorry again, Joe
It was the friendly face I needed, though, right when I needed it most. This is where I broke down in the 2007 race, after all, so at least it all felt familiar. This time, though, I never stopped or even walked. I kept running, and watched as more and more people passed me. Then again, some of them were breaking down too, and I didn't feel so lonely.
I crossed the bridge again, the point of no return. On the other side, I started to feel a bit better. Maybe the chia was kicking in, or the endorphins could finally dull the pain a bit, though my hips were now barking too. I charged through the wall at any rate with a growl and my head held high. I did math in my head (my favorite pastime when running) and decided that an easy 9-min mile could let me break 3:30. That seemed good enough. That's still faster than most of my BQing lady friends!
So I felt better probably through 23 miles, with zero incentive to push much past 8:45, because why risk the DNF after going that far? And at about 22 miles the crowd returned, and I drew a lot of energy from them, especially all the love I got for my Dana Farber singlet. I started counting the minutes until I could rest, singing songs under my breath to distract myself.
But then my other old worry resurfaced: my hamstrings. Back in my heel striking days, my hamstrings would always go on long runs. At Phoenix, I was having a great race until the 25th mile, until my left hamstring tried to secede from my body. I had to stop completely, and then jogged at about 12:00 to the finish. I haven't had problems with them since switching to forefoot striking, but then, I also hadn't gone over 20 miles.
So I went past 23 miles, and maybe it was the last couple of rolling hills, but damn, I don't even know how to describe it, they just felt *wrong*. I had to cut back, again preferring to finish at any speed than really injuring myself.
They didn't get worse, and sort of went in and out. I got to the last mile and the last bridge, and crossing it was the strangest thing, they were like resonating with each other, one after the other, threatening to bounce right off my bones. But without pain, really. Or maybe a lot of pain. It was hard to tell. And then the 3:30 pacer passed me.
That sucked. Granted, he too seemed to be running a bit ahead of pace, but it wasn't the image I needed just then, and once again I couldn't put on any speed because of my hamstrings. Oh, and I had to make FIVE ninety degree turns over the last mile. You remember that thing about VFFs and uphill/downhill? Yeah, I don't really corner well either.
I banged them out, and made the penultimate turn, onto the main street, and a big crowd greeted me. Then several things happened simultaneously. I saw my sister and her kids on my left and heard them cheer for me. At the same time, I could hear the announcer at the finish line, and he was telling us we had about 30 seconds to beat 3:30. And then another runner bumped into me on my right as he tried to kick, and turned to apologize. I grinned and told him GO FOR IT and gave him a friendly push on the back.
I'm not sure what came over me at that point, but looked at the crowd and started raising my arms like Tom Fucking Brady trying to get them to make some noise, and they responded with a roar. I made the final turn, saw the clock, and bolted across with three seconds to spare on the gun time.
I usually slow down after a finish line, but I feel like I stopped on a dime this time, though I didn't fall. Someone with a blanket saw me immediately and walked me as far as the lady handing out medals, and I joked that it would probably pull me to the ground it was so big (only Phoenix had a bigger one). I was a limpy mess, but I had my wits about me. I got my bag, grabbed some food, and found my family.
First half: 1:31:57
Second half: 1:57:52
Positives:
1) I finished.
2) I hadn't run a marathon in almost six years, or more than 20 miles since then.
3) I'd never run more than 20 miles in VFFs ever.
4) I didn't stop.
5) I didn't walk.
6) I broke 3:30
7) With a 47-minute PR.
8) I don't think I ever actually bonked. I think my fueling plan worked: GU every 4 miles, water and gatorade when I could grab it, that bottle of chia fresca at the half, and a few salt pills. I weighed the same after the race as before, and I had gained a couple of pounds during the taper as planned. I felt tired, sure, mentally and physically, but I think only from the pain. But I never felt spent or lightheaded.